


Easy

by rispacooper



Category: Psych
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn has to say  it first. Too bad Lassiter doesn't know what “it” is. (Sinjah wrote a perfectly awesome and cute light-hearted sexy comment fic and I went and stuck drama in there. All the hotness was her. All the needless angst was me. Sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy

Out of all the bad ways a person could wake up, Carlton thought that finding himself tied to his own bed with his own ties was probably the worst.

"Spencer," he growled, because even though he was still half asleep, he goddamn knew who to blame for this.

"Lassie! You're up!" Spencer jumped on the bed, making Carlton bounce a little.

Glaring at him only seemed to make Spencer smile harder, so Carlton said, "Spencer, untie me _this second_."

"I don't think I'm going to do that," Spencer grinned. He flopped on his belly next to Carlton, propping his chin on Carlton's hip and walking two fingers up his stomach. Carlton shivered despite himself – his morning hard-on was straining against his boxers, and Shawn's breath was teasingly hot over his bellybutton. "A bet is a bet."

Carlton growled. "There was no bet," he denied. Even though there had kind of, maybe, had been a bet. But he had been drunk! Drunken bets didn't count. Everyone knew that, even Spencer should know that.

"You specifically said 'I bet that you won't be able to solve the figure skater case faster than me', Lassie," Spencer told him. "And then I told you that you'd lose, and you said that you were so sure that if I won, I'd get to tie you up."

"Lies," Carlton snarled and pulled at his bonds. Spencer had done a pretty good job with the knots, he had to admit.

"You're always such a sore loser, Lassie," Shawn said. He pushed himself up and straddled Carlton. "It would had been so much easier if you could be a man of your word and had willingly let me do this. But no, you had to be difficult and make me sneak up on you."

Spencer wiggled around on top of Carlton, managing to grind his ass against him _just right_. Carlton gritted his teeth. He tugged at the ties knotted around his wrists again. The knots held, but the cheap fabric gave way a little, loosening around his wrist the slightest bit.

"Spencer, this is your last chance. Un _tie_ me," he warned.

"Oh, Lassie, it's going to be hours and _hours_ before I untie you," Shawn said, looking far too pleased with himself.

Carlton couldn't have that. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because he saw it at work every day, or because he never could let Spencer win, not here. Not in bed when it was just the two of them.

He gave another tug at his bonds, sharper this time, and the ties shredded with a loud sound. Spencer only had time to let out a strangled "Oh, _shit_ ," before Carlton was upon him. Carlton's shoulder gave a painful twinge – he had really strained it ripping out of those ties, but it didn't matter, because there was a panting, wide-eyed Spencer trapped beneath him.

"Oh shit," Shawn repeated. "Holy crap, Lassie, that was…"

Carlton smirked. "Now, Spencer, what was it that you said about hours and _hours_?" He pushed a knee between Shawn's legs, rough and hard, grinding his thigh against Shawn's cock, hard and leaking enough that a wet spot had already formed in the front of his boxers.

Shawn hissed and grasped at his shoulders. "Yeah," he said, and he sounded dazed. "Yeah, Lassie, tie me up, keep me here for hours."

Carlton blinked. Sometimes he wondered about how _easy_ Shawn seemed to be. "Suddenly you don't care about the bet?"

Shawn grinned at him and wrapped his legs around his waist – so _easy_ , Carlton thought again. "Lassie, you just ripped your way out of bondage in a stunning display of manly power," he explained. "Of _course_ I don't care about the bet."

Carlton would start to wonder just when his life had turned into something resembling porn, except that he knew the answer and simply didn't want to admit that it had been the same moment where he'd gone from thinking about owning Spencer's ass to _thinking about owning Spencer's ass_ or that in that same moment Shawn had turned to him like the mind reader he pretended to be and had given a look that said he wouldn't mind.

So easy. So damned easy compared to anything else in Carlton's life, to every other interaction he'd ever had with Spencer, to slip from fighting to fighting with _intent_ , to realize that everything Spencer mocked him for outside got him hard in here.

As for Carlton, he found Spencer just as irritating as ever. Too bad his body thought irritated meant aroused, and that aroused meant _Shawn_.

Not that he would ever say it out loud. Ever. Not even in so many words. Not until Spencer said it first.

Maybe that was why it was always just a little rough between them, not that he was complaining. He still had to get Shawn back for ruining his ties, and a stiff, insistent erection to take care of. He pushed down one last time, enough to make Shawn make a needy little noise, and then he shifted.

He spared a moment to enjoy Shawn's surprised expression, the ruddy cheeks, the wet, wide mouth, and then he was getting up. He had to tear his eyes away to rummage through the drawer in the nightstand, and by the time he found what he wanted, Shawn was starting to squawk impatiently.

Carlton shut him up with one smirk, trying not to wonder if Shawn was so compliant in bed for everyone, or to hope that it was just for him. The headboard still had pieces of his ties on it. He tugged one free after tossing lube to the mattress and watched Shawn watch him, how round and starry his eyes got.

“On your stomach.” His order or the rasp in his voice sent a shiver down Shawn's back, made the man push up into the air for a moment, press the heel of his hand to the cock still—barely—hidden by his boxers.

“Lassie.” He didn't think it was whining. It was more like impatience, something flickering across Shawn's face before he moved, rolling over. He froze when Carlton shook his head.

“The other way.” He didn't know where it came from, this need to dominate Spencer, but as long as Shawn didn't stop him, he didn't stop himself. Shawn's expression was briefly amused, and then he was on his knees with his hands at the foot of the bed and his face to the blankets.

Safely hidden from Shawn's gaze, Carlton could stare at him, at what he wished was truly his, and then frown at whatever motivated Spencer to do this with him. He wanted to ask. To say something, anything, to know that he was the only one.

The thought spurred him forward, kept him silent and made his grip forceful as he used strips of one ruined tie to bind Spencer's wrists to the bed, to keep him there.

When he got behind him, took his underwear off, he could heard Shawn whispering to himself over the creaking of the mattresses. “Don't let go. Don't let go.”

There was something infuriating about it. Not like one of his lies, but as though it was another secret that Spencer wouldn't share with him, for all that he was so easy with his cock and mouth and ass. He could hear it whenever he fucked Shawn, when he popped the button on his jeans and sucked him dry, Shawn talking to himself, _don't let go_ , and yet in his eyes a challenge for Carlton, _make me_.

Like last night and a stupid, drunken bet. _Don't let go_ and then _tie me up, keep me_. Shawn was ass up right now, distressingly vulnerable, arousing and maddening and Carlton wanted him maybe more than he'd ever wanted anyone.

Shawn kept up the quiet, feverish murmur until Carlton peeled his boxers away, and then it became a low, choked mumble. _That_ slid into a moan when Carlton spent up a moment slicking up his palm and then driving Spencer crazy. He liked Shawn's cock. He had a suspicion his feelings toward it bordered on obsession. He knew everything about it and was privately convinced that if he wished enough, closed his eyes as he stroked Shawn, as he dragged his fingertips _just_ over sensitive skin so he could feel Shawn go tense with expectation, that it belonged to him, that he could say to Shawn _this is for no one else_ and have it be true.

But for now he only explored familiar territory, tight, hot skin and tight, hot, _wet_ skin and waiting until there were tremors underneath every breath Shawn took before he stopped.

By then Shawn was gasping, sweat a fine sheen down his back that Carlton had stopped to taste more than once. But he could see the white knuckles at the edge of the bed, and had the passing, anxious thought that Shawn was still hanging on, that for this Shawn wasn't easy.

When he lubed up three fingers and slid them into Shawn's ass—relaxed, ready, slutty in a way that Carlton couldn't examine without wanting to growl—Shawn instantly pushed back, started saying Carlton's name in greedy little gulps. His voice was rising, then falling, with every crook of his fingers, finally falling to nothing when he heard Carlton move, when Carlton removed his fingers from the little slut's ass and he let Shawn hear the rip of paper.

“Carlton.” Shawn sounded desperate. Yet Carlton's gaze went to his hands and his mind threw Shawn's words back at him. He let his grip on Shawn's hips turn bruising. Shawn said a word without meaning, bowing his head to bite out another into the bedding. Carlton heard his name anyway, but couldn't smile.

He ought to say something in return, something teasing, mocking, remind Shawn of the bet, or his “manly power”. His throat felt tight, blocked, and when nothing could clear it he bent his head, risked a small kiss to the center of Shawn's back and frowned at himself until he heard Shawn's hissed, impatient _yes_.

The first bang of the headboard against the wall was nearly as gratifying as the shocked noise that Spencer made. Like a cry. Like it hurt or he couldn't get enough. He couldn't manage words, that was clear, but Carlton yanked him back, got that ass up tight against him until he was all the way in and Shawn was letting soft moans escape, turning so that they were muffled into the mattress.

“No.” Carlton wasn't sure why he said it, or when this had turned into something serious, but he _needed_ to hear Shawn now, and snapped forward again, and again, until even the blankets couldn't disguise Shawn's need, the cries that slipped out in time to the slamming of the headboard to the wall.

He'd break the goddamn bed before he'd let Shawn get away with holding on. This shouldn't be easy.

He maybe said it out loud. Shawn possibly answered him, not sarcastic or funny now, just flushed and hard and trying to keep up with Carlton's thrusts. He cried out louder when Carlton spared a moment for the aches Shawn might have later, sounded close to cracking until Carlton had returned a hand to his ass and let his hand slap against all that bare skin.

Carlton was marking Shawn's hips, bruising his ass and his thighs for sure with the force of his own hips slamming against Shawn, giving Shawn all he had, and Shawn had started babbling, words again, crazy, hungry words. "More, more, oh, Lassie, yes, like that."

Carlton moved a hand up Shawn's back and into his hair, tried to slip his other hand under Shawn's belly, but Shawn's knees wobbled once Carlton let him go, unable to keep himself up with his arms stretched out, hands tied up like that, and Carlton shoving into him hard, hard, harder.

He put his hands around Shawn's waist again, pulled him up and back, and Shawn made a sound like sobbing into the mattress, all unintelligible pleading and high, whiny noises.

Carlton was trying to say something, demand something from Shawn about the bet, or rough, or easy, but, fuck, his brain is only giving him words like _mine_ and pictures and the tightfuckinghotslickfeel of being in Shawn, of owning Shawn and every indecent cry leaving his hungry, whorish little mouth, and then Shawn made it so much worse, gave Carlton what he hadn't known he'd wanted by crying out, needing him, saying like it's torn from him—

"Yes, Daddy, please."

Carlton froze for a second, mid-thrust, thinking maybe he'd misheard, but Shawn was saying _it_ , that word again, like it burned, like he had never said it to anyone else, and Carlton pushed his hips forward once more. He didn't know if he wanted to tell Shawn to shut up or to say it again, and tossed his head, settled for growling and digging his nails in Shawn's side.

Shawn's fingers slid free of the bed, splayed out like he was reaching, letting go, and his body pounded around Carlton's cock. Turned on. Helpless.

"Fuck, you do it good, Daddy. Carlton. Daddy." Shawn couldn't stop, a blush moving down his back, his voice different, so fucking hopeful that Carlton needed to hear more. Hear it again. And again. "God, yes Daddy! Lassie!"

"That's right." It came out, as helplessly as it had escaped Shawn, and Carlton shut his eyes when he heard himself _demand_ it, because, fuck yes, that was it, exactly what Shawn should be saying. "Say it again, Shawn. Say it."

Rough, his voice was rough. Too rough, he thought distantly, too much. The kind of thing nobody could possibly want to hear, but Shawn was so hot that it burned to touch him, and he was moaning with a shame he probably had never felt before, a shame that lasted until Carlton's voice went hoarse with the command for him to say it again. Then he was crying it out.

“Make me, Daddy, please.”

“Yes.” Carlton agreed, not gentling, but something indefinable ripping through him that made him want to push closer. And fuck, Shawn was coming at the word. Carlton shut his eyes, because everything was tight and hot and light, because Shawn's cock belonged to him, and his ass, and his mouth, and everything in between, and at the thought he was coming too.

For long minutes after he collapsed on top of Shawn, he could only hear panting, and the hoarse, quiet moans that Shawn couldn't entirely seem to stop making. They broke when Carlton reached out, ignoring his strained shoulder to run a touch over Shawn's hip.

“Lassie,” Shawn tried, quietly, breathlessly, without turning his head, and shivered when Carlton's mouth worked over his skin again. He wasn't even attempting to put up a fight. His hands curled back around the bed, then let go.

“Pay no attention to anything I may have said,” Shawn mumbled, trying to cover his ass, and Carlton smirked to himself before giving that ass a squeeze. It was his after all. Then he grinned with his face to Shawn's back so Shawn could feel it, gave him another kiss to feel another fine tremor rock through Shawn.

“I don't think I'm going to do that,” he answered with surprising calm, throwing Shawn's words back at him. His voice was rough. But the words themselves...? Easy.


End file.
